The Design of Dukes (#2)
Lady Andromeda Barrington is the most unsuitable young lady in London.
At least in the Duke of Granby’s opinion.
Granby doesn’t care for bastard relatives or tainted pedigrees and Andromeda possesses both. Nor does he like opinionated young ladies who enjoy hurling insults in his direction.
Andromeda is, in short, the most annoying creature he’s ever met.
When she arrives, uninvited, to a house party given at his estate, Granby can’t decide whether to kiss Andromeda senseless or send her packing.
Andromeda is the victim of infatuation and bad luck.
The infatuation is that of her sister for the Earl of Blythe, but the misfortune belongs solely to Andromeda after she is forced to attend a house party hosted by the Duke of Granby. She and the duke are previously, unpleasantly, acquainted. The entire party is bound to be awkward, and their mutual dislike difficult to hide. Her only recourse is to avoid the giant block of ice masquerading as a duke. Thankfully, Granby’s estate is enormous.
But instead of mutual hostility upon arriving, Romy is greeted with unexpected attraction. Insults turn into flirtation. Heated discussions become lingering kisses.
Her heart is ruined. Granby may not even have one.
And the duke has already chosen another young lady to be his duchess.
The allure Granby held for her swirled around her ankles like a small hurricane. She wiggled a foot, trying to shake it off.
&
Her spine stiffened immediately, her beautiful mouth pursing. He adored her anger. It meant she wasn’t unaffected by him. David didn’t want to suffer alone.
&
“There are things, Romy,” he said, his voice lowering a delicious octave, “which are far more intoxicating than scotch and much more likely to cause me to lose control.” The dark rasp of his voice lifted the hairs at the base of her neck. “You, for instance.”
“Me?” How seductive she sounded. Flirtatious. “You don’t even like me.”
“Silly shrub.” Granby spun her once more; he tugged her closer and discreetly nipped her earlobe. “I think we both know that is not the case.”
The Marquess Method (#3)
Lady Theodosia Barrington is practically begging to be ruined.
That’s the assumption of the Marquess of Haven after spying Theodosia at a house party given by the Duke of Granby. After his father left him little else but a title and a crumbling estate, Haven is in desperate need of an heiress. Not only is Theodosia rich as Croesus and beautiful, but she’s also a Barrington. Her brothers are the Duke of Averell and Leo Murphy, the two men Haven holds responsible for his financial difficulties.
Theodosia is the solution to all of Haven’s problems.
Lady Theodosia has long been infatuated with the Earl of Blythe. In an effort to prove her affection and, perhaps, induce him to offer for her, Theodosia paints a scandalous self-portrait of herself for Blythe as a gift. The small token of affection is incredibly improper.
She regrets sending the miniature to Blythe almost immediately.
Desperate to save her reputation before it can be destroyed by her own stupidity, Theodosia makes another rash decision. Retrieve the miniature from Blythe's home.
Except, it isn't Blythe she finds waiting for her, but Haven.
And her own ruination.
It is one thing for a young lady to be compromised. Quite another to be compromised by the entirely wrong gentleman while you are attempting to retrieve a half-naked miniature of your breasts which you painted for the right gentleman, who ironically is the witness, along with his overbearing mother, of your ruination.
&
She took his arm, refusing to look directly at him. “Lead me to my doom, my lord.”
Gorgeous, hostile little thing.
“As you wish, Theodosia,” he answered solemnly.
&
He wanted so badly to touch her and tell her again how sorry he was for hurting her.
Gorgeous, half-blind creature, I adore you.
&
Haven stalked closer. “It is no shame to be kind to others. I only wonder when some of that caring heart will be directed at me.”
Wretch. He had her whole heart.
&
“Do you promise,” she murmured, her pulse fluttering in her neck, “that going forward, we will have honesty? Not to be wretched. Impossible. Difficult.”
“I can promise you honesty.” The grip on her breast became possessive. “But I can’t offer you any of those other things. I will always be impossible. Blunt. Wretched.”
“You’re ruining it,” she whispered, though he wasn’t, not really.
“But I can offer up my heart.” His voice grew raspy and rough as he pressed his lips against her throat. “Which admittedly isn’t my best feature, but it belongs to you, nonetheless.” He turned her head and brushed his lips gently against hers. “You have never been second best. Never odd. Never to me. In my sky, you are the brightest star, dazzling me with your brilliant light.”
A tear ran down her cheek and she wiped it away. “I suppose that was acceptable groveling.”
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